


Brindle

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mild Pet Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis knows how to get under Noct’s skin.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	Brindle

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The apartment’s dead quiet, which can only mean one thing—Noctis slept through his alarm and the dozen-or-so texts and calls Ignis bombarded him with. Otherwise there’d be a game going or music blasting or even Prompto’s laughter drifting in from the living room. Ignis allows him self a small sigh of annoyance before he gets to work. This is just another part of his job.

He leaves his shoes by the door and does a peripheral sweep of the entrance way, picking up half-empty chip bags and grabbing discarded clothes to add to the laundry. He’s been really trying _not_ to do laundry of late, because that’s such a simple chore, and Noctis is more than old enough to do it for himself. But if Noctis shows up to the Citadel in sweats and a stained T-shirt, Ignis will hear about it. It’s always a delicate balance. He wants to do what’s best for Noctis, and he wants to see Noctis mature and flourish, but maybe a tiny part of him also wants to do absolutely anything and everything for his precious prince. 

He doesn’t have to draw the curtains in the living room, because they’re already open. They were probably left that way when Noctis stumbled off to bed. Noctis’ room, on the other hand, is a pitch black cavern when Ignis pushes open the door. He’s not surprised to see a familiar lump sprawled square in the middle of the bed, one pillow on the floor and the blankets draped everywhere. On the way to the window, Ignis can’t help an exasperated, “You’re _such_ a lazy cat.”

Noctis gives no acknowledgement. The commotion should’ve already woken him, but it’s standard practice for him to continue feigning sleep. Then Ignis wrenches open the curtains without mercy, and Noctis groans and crumples up under the sunlight. 

He looks even more of a mess with the lights on. Only a corner of the blanket is drawn over his knees, and the rest of him is exposed and curved into a circle like his spine is made of rubber. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, the rest of his handsome figure glistening with old sweat, likely from more night terrors that Ignis should’ve been there to soothe away. He tries not to feel guilty for it. He can’t be with Noctis all the time. He knows he coddles Noctis too much. So he doesn’t give in to Noctis’ pathetic whimpering and attempts to shield his face with the end of the blanket. 

Ignis comes around the other side of the bed and pulls the blanket away. Noctis flinches like he’s been wounded, and he hisses like an agitated coeurl that would kill anyone else for disturbing him. They both know he’d never hurt Ignis. And he’d lose if they ever fought, because Ignis takes his duties and his prince’s care more seriously than Noctis has ever taken anything. Ignis tells him plainly, “You have a council meeting in forty-five minutes, and it’s a twenty-minute drive.” Noctis grumbles unintelligibly and keeps his eyes stubbornly closed. “If you’re not in the shower within the next sixty seconds, I’ll swat you with the newspaper.”

Noctis sticks out his tongue. He’s such an incredible _brat_ sometimes. He could be a great king someday, but at the moment, he has far too many failings and weaknesses. 

Ignis knows them all. He leans down over the bed and puts his hand on Noctis’ shoulder, noting with displeasure how very _cold_ Noctis is. It’s a wonder he doesn’t give up his charade long enough to get back under the covers. At least he responds to Ignis’ touch, pressing back into the warmth. His eyes slit open just a fraction, just enough for Ignis to look directly into them and purr, “C’mon, _kitten_. Get out of bed.”

Pink blossoms across Noctis’ cheeks. They have plenty of nicknames for each other, but Ignis knows _exactly_ what that one does to Noctis. It turns him on with a vengeance every single time. Ignis fans those flames by trailing his fingers down Noctis’ body, petting him in long, broad strokes. Noctis’ eyes get a little wider, and Ignis adds, “If you be a good kitty for me and get up now, I might even give you a treat...”

Noctis shivers. But as easy to crack as he is, he’s also intelligent. He has to know that Ignis would never offer any kind of distraction before Citadel business, even a quickie. Squinting suspiciously, Noctis demands, “What kind of treat...?”

Ignis bends the rest of the way down to open wide around Noctis’ throat and sink his blunt teeth into Noctis’ soft skin. Noctis gasps, arching right into it, but Ignis swiftly withdraws. He leaves a wet red patch behind but no permanent marks. He would never mar his prince’s gorgeous figure. He nuzzles his nose against Noctis’ and promises, “Something better than catnip.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, especially because Ignis leaves his hand on Noctis’ inner thigh, and he whispers again just for effect: “Please, _kitten_.”

Noctis breaks. He suddenly lunges up with the force of a warp strike. As badly as Ignis wants to fall victim to the blow, he lurches back just in time to keep their mouths from touching. He backs away from the bed, keeping pace as Noctis lifts higher, trying to reach him. Then Noctis is on all fours at the edge of the mattress, and Ignis is more than an arm’s length away. Breathing harder than someone freshly rested should be, Noctis orders, “Come here.”

Ignis smoothly counters, “Get in the shower.”

Noctis whines like a starving pet. “I want my treat...”

“And you’ll have it. _After_ the council meeting. Assuming you arrive on time.”

Noctis wrinkles his nose. But when Ignis turns and strolls for the washroom, Noctis obediently follows, lets Ignis brush his teeth, begrudgingly climbs into the shower, and well earns the delicious not-catnip he gets four hours later.


End file.
